


The Hounds of Black Meadow

by BlueLionWrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Shapeshifting, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLionWrites/pseuds/BlueLionWrites
Summary: Black Meadow, for all its quaint charm, harbours a terrible curse; a beast that demands a sacrifice every ten years in return for keeping the town safe from harm. Lance is fascinated by the Hound and when he is chosen as the next sacrifice, he accepts his fate willingly but things are not what he has been led to believe.





	The Hounds of Black Meadow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, I just had the idea for it and then this kinda happened and I'm actually kinda proud of it???????

The town of Black Meadow was small, though miniscule was perhaps a better word to describe it. With a population of just over three hundred, providing half didn’t die off from the harsh winter that would soon be upon them, the town could scarcely be found on any maps and there weren’t any other towns for thousands of miles in any direction. Foreigners, should they ever turn up that is, were immediately driven away from their gates, either by the guards or by the ominous aura that covered the city like a blanket. The town was surrounded by walls of sharpened, wooden stakes that stood at over fifty feet tall and jutted out in every direction, keeping visitors and predators alike away. 

Lance, the son of the towns’ healers and in training to be one himself, longed to be one of the hunters that ventured outside the gates to provide food for the town though he had never stepped so much as a foot passed the armed gate; the only way in or out of the city. He ached for more than the life he had been given, for adventure; to walk a path of his own choosing instead of following in the footsteps of his parents. He was held in the clutches of a town where he would be soon forced into a marriage with the next girl that came of age in order to produce more heirs and to expand the populace of their city. 

Black Meadow, for all its quaint charm, harboured a terrible curse; a dreaded creature that, according to the widow that lived in the center of town, was a Hound as large as a horse with eyes that glowed like dying coals and a vicious scar that cut down the right side of its face. She was the only person who had seen the Hound and lived to tell about it, having climbed to the roof of the guard tower to watch as it took her husband. The creature was gifted a human sacrifice every decade on the last full moon of the Autumnal months and for a time, the ritual kept the citizens of the town calm, yet their fear always returned stronger than before. Though the beast had never once strayed from its decadal return, the village lived in fear that it would come for them and their children should they anger it, worshiping it like a wrathful deity they didn’t wish to anger.

Having never seen it for himself of course, Lance was curious about the Hound and when he questioned the hunters, they divulged that none of the men had ever once seen a single paw print or tuft of fur to produce as confirmation. Unlike the rest of the village, he found it difficult to live in fear of a creature he had never seen evidence of ever existing. As the sun sunk below the horizon and the final full moon of Autumn began to rise over the walls, the town waited with baited breath for the telltale sign of who would be chosen as the next sacrifice. As dreams of freedom filled his head, Lance fell asleep, softly snoring as he tucked away into his bed up in the small attic of his family home, content with the knowledge that he would find out who was taken come dawn. 

A distant howl woke Lance from his sleep, his eyes opened blearily, adjusting to the darkness of the room. Merely hours had passed since he first fell into the clutches of slumber, the sapphire sky twinkled with starlight as Lance made his way to the small window to look down at the town, oblivious at first to what was going on. Beams of pure moonlight bathed his golden skin in its silvery glow, marking him as the next sacrifice to be given to the Hound.

Lance was surprised, stumbling back several paces before falling to his knees. He had never expected that he of all people would be one of the Chosen, that he would ever be deemed worthy enough of what the townsfolk would say was the highest honour that one could be presented with, to be considered a guardian of the town to keep them safe for another decadal cycle. He slipped quietly down the wooden ladder and into the kitchen where his family stood, disheveled from being woken from their beds and eyes glassy with unshed tears. They didn’t speak, so unlike the usual bustling activity that always shrouded their home, just holding onto each other until it was time for Lance to leave, no longer able to resist the pull of the moon that would inevitably lead him to his fated end. His footfalls were deafening as they hit the stone tread of the stairs that lead up to his door and down into the street, shucking his nightshirt and pants to stand bare before the village as was tradition. 

Clothes weren’t the most valuable of assets and were easily replaceable, yet tradition dictated he be presented bare to the Hound and it made no sense to ruin perfectly good sleep-clothes as he was torn to shreds. Lance saw no shame in his bare form, even as a blush lay high on his cheeks, the eyes of the townsfolk raking across his slender form as he made his way through the path they made for him with stones, grains of rice and the petals of flowers. The moonlight followed him like the harsh glare of a spotlight as he made his way to the gates, the townsfolk parting like the Red Sea to let him through, watching as Lance walked passed, prayers and flowers petals thrown over him as he exited the city gates, without so much as a glance back, knowing he would lose his resolve to be strong and fearless if he saw his family’s expressions. 

In return for their sacrifice, the Hound protected their town from disease and sickness; it kept their crops healthy and provided them with a bountiful harvest each year. Their children would grow big and strong and their livestock with produce healthy young to continue aiding the village. The last time the moon had chosen someone, it was the blacksmith, Antok; a gruff man that Lance had taken a true shining to as a child, often spending his days in the forge watching the older man work. 

Lance had watched as the smith made his way through the village, just as he himself now was, disappearing from sight with the magistrate in tow. The moment they left the village, a heavy fog spread across the land and when dawn broke, both the fog and Antok were nowhere to be seen. Lance had stayed up all night in search of the Hound, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sacred beast over the top of the wall from his small window but he was too short to see much, being only eight at the time. 

Lance smiled sadly. He was happy that it was him who was chosen as the next sacrifice and not one of his siblings. Content in the knowledge that should he die, his village would be safe for another ten years to come and he would finally see the Hound he had dreamed of seeing since childhood. When the village was no longer in sight, the magistrate tied him to the lone post that stood proudly from the fertile soil, wrists bound behind his back as he sat cross-legged on the damp ground. With parting well wishes and praise for his braver, the magistrate dashed off, retreating behind the safety of the walls that surrounded the city. 

Hours passed and soon the sky began to lighten, still a deep blue but promise of a sunrise soon approaching made Lance chew the inside of his cheek with worry. _Was I not a worthy sacrifice?_

A near-deafening howl broke through his troubled thoughts and his heart beat as if it were trying to escape his chest. The sound of heavy thuds signaled the Hound was approaching and fast. 

A shapeless mass appeared merely ten feet away, backlit by the moonlight, offering naught but an intimidating silhouette. The feeble light and the heavy fog blocked Lance’s ability to truly see the oncoming beast. As the fog curled and twisted, it finally began to thin, breaking merely a few feet in front of him. He gasped, eyes widening in wonder at the beast that stood before him. Just as the spinster had described; it was massive, but instead of eyes the colour of hellfire, they were violet and a vicious scar across its muzzle instead of down the right side of its face. 

It circled Lance, slowly, giant paws leaving indents in the soft soil and sniffing at him occasionally. It nosed at his crotch and chuffed amusedly at the squeak Lance emitted, pressing his legs together. It seemed to be assessing whether or not he would be a good meal as it continued circling. The beast stopped behind Lance, using a claw to slice through the rope that bound his wrists to the post. When Lance made no effort to run, the Hound nosed at his neck, soft fur brushing against his unblemished skin. 

Lance let out a peal of laughter at the ticklish sensation. The Hound barked, dropping to its chest in front of him, tail wagging excitedly at the humans’ response. Lance reached out a tentative hand, inching it towards the space between the beast’s ears and when it stayed still, Lance grew bolder, running his fingers through the soft locks of pure white fur. He scratched behind the Hounds’ ears and grinned as it nuzzled into his hand, tongue lolling out of its mouth. 

“You’re so beautiful” Lance commented, rocking forward so he could sit on his calves and nuzzling against the Hound’s soft fur, arms encircling his broad neck to hug it against him, burrowing against the warmth from the cool night he’d had to endure. It was said in his village that only the worthy sacrifices survived the cool nights.

 _“You aren’t afraid of me?”_ the Hound asked curiously, his deep voice echoing in Lance’s mind. He felt content with the beast’s voice inside of his head, though confused by his acceptance of his strange fate. Its tail wagged from side to side as it sat down, towering over Lance who crawled forward into the space between the wolf’s paws and rested there, yawning tiredly. He shook his head in answer to the literally unspoken question and leant against the Hound’s chest, listening to the steady beat of its heart.

 _“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, little one. We must be gone before sunrise. Climb up”_ the Hound spoke once more into his mind, pressing his cold nose to Lance’s face to garner his attention. It dropped to its stomach to allow Lance to climb onto its back. When Lance didn’t immediately do as it asked, it barked at him, huffing disapprovingly until Lance slipped a leg over the wolf’s back, knees and thighs pressing into the strong muscle beneath the white fur as he scooted forward, hands holding onto the longer fur at the tops of his shoulders, careful not to pull any out or tug too hard. 

”You’re fur is so soft” Lance murmured, pressing himself flat against the wolf’s back. He smelled so good and Lance was practically purring as he pressed his nose into the wolf’s neck, cuddling against it. Trees flashed by in a blur and the sun began to peak over the horizon. They wove through countless paths and came crossed many animals, deer and rabbits that sped away from the predator that brushed passed them without so much as a second glance. As they began to slow, Lance noticed a steep staircase carved out of a craggy cliff face that led up to a wide opening. The Hound climbed up the stairs with ease, entering into the cave mouth and padding through tunnels and turns that were lit with sconces yet still Lance wasn’t afraid. 

“You aren’t the Hound that took Antok, the blacksmith, are you?” Lance asked softly, nails scratching gently behind the beast’s ear.

 _“That’s right, little one. There are many of my kind and every ten years, one of us is summoned to our mate. The last time a mate was chosen it was Antok, he is now with Kolivan, my friend and second in command”_ the Hound responded, a bubble of warmth and affection filling Lance’s mind.

A rightfulness he’d never experienced before had now settled in his veins, as if puzzle pieces were falling into places that he didn’t know were missing. Lance felt utterly bewildered by the steady presence of the Hound that lingered in the back of his mind and the way he seemed to flow in tune with the Hound, muscles shifting and adapting to each turn it took like he had done this a thousand times. In that moment, there was a bond forged between them that astounded them both. 

When they slowed to a walk, the Hound spoke again. _“My name is Takashi, little one but you can call me Shiro. My kind are the guardians of the earth, we protect it from those that would seek to see it destroyed. When the moon chooses one of your villagers, it strengthens our pack, giving us the power to protect the earth and in return for the sacrifice, we bless your village with bountiful harvests and keep them safe from disease and sickness”_

_“The moon is our deity, we are as bound to her as she is to us; she shows us to our mates, knows when we are destined to cross their path. The members of your village that are supposedly sacrificed to the Hound are never harmed but are brought here to the Sanctuary and when the sun rises, we become human but when the moon is in the sky we take on the form you see now. Our true forms”_

“My name is Lance” the brunet offered simply, taking in what Shiro had said. He couldn’t say how long they had been making their way through the endless halls that had been dug from one side of the cliff to the other. Minutes? Hours? He wasn’t sure until they reached the end of the final tunnel. Lance slipped from his back when Shiro came to a stop, dashing forward and into the sunlight, it having finally risen above the horizon. 

His jaw dropped at the sight before him; wide expanses of lush, green grass, pools of sparkling, blue water and willow trees that brushed the ground, a utopia. The place was dotted with the same creatures as Shiro and he watched in fascination as their bodies shifted, their fur receding and their appearances changing into human ones as the sunlight touched their skin. A calloused hand on his shoulder pulled Lance back to the here and now, causing him to turn, eyes sparkling at the man that now stood in place of the beast he had travelled with.

“When the moon chooses a member of your village, it means they’re souls are entwined with the spirit of one of my kind. We feel it in our bones when the moon chooses our mate, she leads us to the one person we will share a connection with like no other… and I, little one, have waited many lifetimes to meet you“.


End file.
